


Drabbles (and other lengthed things...)

by mansikka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Dean, Human Castiel, M/M, Mild Smut, Post-Season/Series 12, Sam Ships It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-11 19:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7905505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello :)</p>
<p>These are beginnings/half-started fics that really aren't going anywhere, so you can have them here as random drabbles instead :)</p>
<p>None of them are in any way related to each other, it just seemed easier to shove them all in one 'fic' because they're all so short.</p>
<p>The third one, Minutes, might be best read away from others although it's not that smutty at all really.</p>
<p>These are for @yourspecialeyes :)</p>
<p>Enjoy!</p>
<p>x</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Over Salad

**Author's Note:**

> Hello :)
> 
> These are beginnings/half-started fics that really aren't going anywhere, so you can have them here as random drabbles instead :)
> 
> None of them are in any way related to each other, it just seemed easier to shove them all in one 'fic' because they're all so short.
> 
> The third one, Minutes, might be best read away from others although it's not that smutty at all really.
> 
> These are for @yourspecialeyes :)
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> x

So it’s all out in the open.

 

Cas and Dean are now, officially, _Cas and Dean_ , and if they would just come up for air for a moment, Sam’s got a whole list of puns and things to tease them about ready and prepared to use. He’s almost tempted to knock on the bedroom door to get started with all he’s been storing up - for what’s let’s face it, a very, very, _very_ long time.

 

Almost ready.

 

But not quite.

 

Because there’s been noises coming from in there that he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to unhear, to be honest.

 

And when they _do_ occasionally leave the room they look at each other with such _hunger_ that half the time Sam’s afraid they’re going to forget his presence and rip each other’s clothes off there and then right in front of him.

 

But you know. Better late than never, all part of the fun of house sharing with your two favourite people, and there’s a whole lot of _well it’s about time_ in there too about it.

 

All that worrying and lying to themselves, and each other over the years was resolved, would you believe it, because of an argument over salad.

 

Dean was making what he professed to be the best BLTs known to mankind. Cas had commented about Dean actively choosing to eat vegetables. Dean had retorted with something like _if you’re going to find fault then you don’t get one_ , and Cas had answered by leaning up against him and stealing a slice of tomato.

 

Dean had protested.

 

Cas had told Dean to come get the tomato back.

 

So Dean had kissed him, hard, right there in the kitchen, and remained pressed up against him with Cas’ hands up the back of his shirt, for some very long length of time. Which is, of course, how Sam found them. There are some things that Sam will never unsee, and his brother being pinned back against the kitchen counter with his hands rammed firmly in the pockets of Cas’ jeans as he rutted between Dean’s legs was one of those things.

 

Curiously, they never did find out if Dean had actually made the best BLTs known to mankind, but Sam could say they were good enough.

 


	2. Being Sure

Dean’s hands glided up from where they’d rested on Cas’ chest, smiling kisses into his mouth as his fingers slipped between Cas’ and held on to them with only the slightest of force. Cas arched beneath him, pressing their chests together and squeezing Dean’s hands back, a moan against his lips telling Dean just how much he didn’t object.

 

Cas rolled his hips, thrusting up into Dean at the perfect angle to make Dean stutter forward and groan into his mouth. Freeing his hands from Dean’s grip, he wrapped one around Dean, stroking him lightly as Dean’s breath caught at his sudden touch, and rested the other one splayed out on his thigh.

 

It hadn’t taken them long to get to here, just a few stilted conversations that were replaced by physical gestures which got across their point quicker and more concisely than their messed up words ever could.

 

But not once did Dean do anything before checking, and over-checking that Cas was okay with it, that it was something he really did want.

 

“You sure, Cas?”

 

Cas fought back the urge to roll his eyes at Dean’s question, having heard it repeated three times in a row now in the space of just a few short minutes.

 

Each time he’d asked the question he’d murmured it into Cas' skin and peppered it with kisses, not daring to look up in case there was disapproval there.

 

Cas brought his hands up to stroke along Dean’s thighs where they straddled him, rubbing his thumbs in a trail to his inner thighs before letting his hands fall back flat on the bed.

 

“Yes, Dean. I am sure.”

 


	3. Minutes

“Unghhhh”

 

“I’m gonna interpret that as, ‘Good Morning, Dean. I’m happy to be awake’, am I right, Cas?” Dean breathes into Cas’ ear as Cas mumbles grumpily into his neck, wrapping his arm around him tightly.

 

“Nnh.”

 

“Nope.” Dean says with loud kiss on the top of Cas’ hair, gently pushing his shoulder, “I’m pretty sure that was, ‘I’m not moving from this bed. And you know that’s not happening, not today.”

 

“Five minutes,” Cas rumbles, still nuzzling into Dean and attempting to wrap his arms back around him as Dean more adamantly pushes him firmly on to his back and straddles his lap.

 

Cas makes a small pleased sound, hands instantly stretching to wrap around Dean’s thighs.

 

“I know your five minutes,” Dean says pointedly, slowly circling his hips and earning himself a little groan of appreciation.

 

“Five minutes,” Cas repeats, sliding those hands up to hold on to Dean’s hips as he lazily thrusts up against him.

 

“But we’ve got,” Dean starts, bending down and kissing Cas, interrupting himself as he tries to speak, “like, _hours_ of driving ahead. _Hours_ , Cas,”

 

Cas slides his hands over Dean’s back, one pressing low so he can continue to grind up against him and the other cradling the back of his head in place so he can deepen their kiss. “... three minutes,”

 

Dean licks his way into Cas’ mouth for a few seconds then pulls back, biting a gentle path down his neck, kissing his sternum and all the way down until he’s nuzzling against Cas’ tattoo. Then he’s jumping up off the bed, reaching out and tickling Cas’ foot which he jerks away instantly in protest, then turns and opens the closet, pulling them both out clothes and starting to fold them into a holdall that he’s placed at the foot of their bed.

 

“Anyone’d think you didn’t wanna celebrate our anniversary, Cas,” Dean says in a purposely petulant tone that he knows is going to have more impact than anything else, and grins to himself for doing it. Because secretly, grumpy morning Cas is one of his favourite versions of Cas, and he kind of loves mornings just like this one when he gets to see that grumpiness on full.

 

Cas is up, out of the bed, wrapping Dean up in his arms from behind and mumbling apologies into his skin almost instantly. Then he’s reaching around, stroking his fingertips over Dean’s ring and hooking his own finger around it, kissing his shoulder.

 

“Of course I want to celebrate our anniversary, Dean,” Cas says softly, pressing up against Dean as much as he can as he slides his way around to press their chests together. “Marrying you is the most important thing I have ever done in my existence,”

 

Dean makes a noncommittal noise but gently presses his palms to Cas’ face and bends down to kiss him. “Maybe not _that_ import-”

 

“It _is_ ,” Cas insists, kissing him hard, then pulling back to look at him so earnestly that Dean’s heart thuds a little with the weight of it. It amazes him that Cas can still have that effect on him after all this time, but he's happy for it anyway.

 

“Then you won’t mind getting a move on so we can get outta here,” Dean whispers against Cas’ lips. Cas loops his arms around Dean’s waist and presses them even more flushly together.

 

“Of course not,” but then Cas is crowding Dean back until they are against a wall and Dean is pinned, and Cas is kissing him harder still.

 

“This is kinda not us moving either, Cas,” Dean says when he can, not that he’s really complaining. Neither is he complaining when Cas slips to his knees and takes Dean into his mouth, pressing him firmly back against that wall to prevent him moving, licks him hard, then sucks him off in minutes as though it is his life’s mission.

 

Dean’s knees buckle a little as he comes; Cas’ hands hold him steady as he trembles and prevent him from slipping, even as he stands back up and flicks his tongue into Dean’s mouth, grinding up against him.

 

Dean attempts to move, to wrap his hand around Cas, to return the favour, but Cas is batting his hand away and turning from him with a smirk.

 

“I thought you wanted us to ‘get moving’, Dean,” Cas calls over his shoulder, snatching up and tossing a pair of boxers in Dean’s direction as he shrugs into a pair himself.

 

“I… thought you wanted five minutes,” Dean fires back a little lamely, still trying to regain his breath.

 

Cas turns then, sliding his hand into his own boxers and fisting himself slowly, letting out a soft moan as he does. “Because of this?”

 

Dean nods his head rapidly, eyes on what Cas is doing to himself, and pushes himself shakily away from the wall to walk towards him.

 

Cas hums to himself, throws a t-shirt on that’s loose enough to hide his arousal then turns away again, opening the door. “I intend to deal with that in the shower. You may join me if you wish,”

 

Dean stands there stupidly for a few seconds, trying to process how Cas has gone from sleepy grump to blatant tease in a matter of minutes, then rapidly throws on some clothes himself and follows Cas out.

 

They leave the bunker exactly thirty five minutes later, both with smirks on their faces and Cas complaining that he’s too hungry to look forward to their road trip.

 

Dean thinks of the perfect place to take him and works out how many extra minutes that is going to put on their journey then smiles to himself, shaking his head. Because Cas knows full well that Dean will give him all the minutes in the world.


	4. On Finding A Hobby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean tries to find Cas a hobby now that he's human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello :) you might (but... let's face it, probably won't) remember this 'fic'. It was one of the options for you guys to choose from over on Tumblr when we were doing the Choose Your Own Destiel that became Bumper Cars. I still think I'll do another Choose Your Own, but not with these, so I may as well post them here :)
> 
> x

“Why are we here?”  
  
Dean smiles at the curiosity on Cas’ face as he takes a sweeping look over the plants, flowers, and bags of soil around them, waiting for him to look back and meet his eye.  
  
“‘Cos,” Dean answers, “you’re human now. Humans need hobbies,”  
  
“‘Hobbies’?” Cas repeats, and it’s clear that the word feels foreign to him.  
  
“Yeah, Cas,” Dean tries to enthuse, clasping his arm briefly, then wrapping one around his shoulders, steering him towards an aisle, “hobbies,”

Cas has been living with them in the bunker for a while now, and at first, Dean blamed Cas’ listlessness, his lack of interest in things unless he or Sam showed an interest in them first, on Cas concentrating all his efforts on learning how to be human. But now, after so long of watching Cas go through his day, be it laundry folding, working out what things he likes in the grocery store, or on a hunt, as though he wasn’t quite there - wasn’t totally with them, hadn’t completely accepted that this was now his life - Dean is worried. Cas has been through so much, like they all have; but humanity has to be a hell of a thing to have to adjust to, after all Cas has experienced.  
  
“Do you have hobbies, Dean?” Cas asks, even more doubtfully.

The question catches Dean off guard, really throws him for a second. “Sure I do. _We_ do, I mean. Sam goes running, got his podcasts and stuff. And I swear Eileen’s teaching him every dirty word there is to know in ASL over Skype-”  
  
“And you, Dean?” Cas presses, eyes narrowing a touch, sensing he is avoiding the question.  
  
“Uh,” Dean stumbles out, stalling for time, “well. There’s the Impala; gotta take care of my baby,”  
  
“Of course,” Cas agrees, giving Dean a small, affectionate smile that sends a funny jolt through his stomach.  
  
“And I… you know. I… I listen to music a lot. Read. I-”  
  
“There is a collection of comic books filling an entire shelf in the library,” Cas points out, raising an eyebrow and challenging him to deny it, “I do not believe they belong to Sam,”  
  
“Got me there,” Dean laughs, and is rewarded by Cas’ smile turning triumphant. “I-”  
  
“You also like cooking,” Cas adds, now narrowing his eyes a little, “you called me your _guinea pig_ ,”  
  
“It was a new recipe,” Dean defends, thinking of the hours he’s spent pouring over recipes wondering what sort of things Cas might like, and raising his hands, “and- and you’ve not had an appetite in a while. Not- not a real one, anyway. It’s... good, you know? Trying new stuff out. Having someone else to try stuff, ‘sides Sam,”  
  
“And you believe I should… grow plants?” Cas asks, that smile turning to full-on amusement that has Dean embarrassed, and taunting himself that it was a stupid idea. Maybe he has no reason to be worried about Cas’ lack of interesting in things at all. Maybe he’s just… finding his feet. Discovering what he likes at his own pace. Doesn’t need his interference, or guidance at all.  
  
“Well,” Dean tries, “you know. We got- we got the space for it, so... why not? Get some sun. Keep you busy. And your bees…” he adds, which seems the final straw for Cas, who breaks out into the biggest grin imaginable; so wide and happy, it feels to Dean like he’s ensnared by it.  
  
“It is a good idea,” Cas enthuses, sweet and light, looking thankful of all things, and making Dean’s breath catch all over again as he leans into his side, “perhaps… perhaps you should help me decide what I need to buy,”  
  



	5. At The Market

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean, Sam, and (human) Cas visit a market.

“You’re doing it again,”  
  
Dean dragged his eyes back from watching Cas at the stall opposite, deep in conversation with the stallholder guy, who’d apparently already sold him an armful of things, and raised an eyebrow at Sam, asking a silent question.   
  
“Staring,” Sam teased, his voice that perfect pitch somewhere between teasing and joyful that was just enough to set Dean’s teeth on edge.   
  
“I’m not-”   
  
“Every time he walks away from us to go anywhere - do anything,” Sam insisted, “you got your eyes on him like… I don’t know. Like he’s gonna need first aid, or rescuing, or just… like he’s gonna disappear, or something,”   
  
“I do not-”   
  
“You do. You practically walk behind him with your arms out in case he falls. He’s human now, he’s not- he’s not broken, Dean,”   
  
“Are you done?” Dean grouched out, shoving Sam a little too rough to suggest he move up a space in the queue.   
  
“And he’s not going anywhere,” Sam added as he stepped backwards without looking, turning briefly to wave an apology to the person he’d bumped into, “he’s not. He’s already said; he’s staying,”   
  
Dean looked between Sam and the wall of different cheeses beside them, that Sam had insisted on coming to - probably with a recipe for Dean to cook in mind, then back again. “Just looking out for the guy,”   
  
“Yeah, right,” Sam mumbled, already turning again, and stepping up to order.   
  
Dean watched the light, easy way Sam laughed and joked with the man serving, screwed his nose up at the suggestion of baked brie, then startled at the feel of Cas nudging against him.   
  
“You buy the whole stall or something?” Dean asked, his voice immediately softer, already reaching out to take some of the things nestled in the crook of Cas’ arms.   
  
“No,”   
  
With the huge jar of honey now secure in his hand, Dean raised his head, eyes narrowing in on the stick of the lollipop jutting out of Cas’ mouth. “You sure about that, Cas?”   
  
With a loud pop, Cas pulled the candy from his mouth and gestured dismissively at the paper bag in his free hand with it. “I bought you pie,”   
  
Normally, Dean thought, as he shifted a little on the spot, the mere suggestion of pie - pie that was already spotting grease into the paper bag surface, he noticed - would have his undivided attention. Instead, the bear-shaped candy now being slot back into Cas’ mouth was what had it; the barest sight of Cas’ tongue swirling out around it and Dean was swallowing awkwardly, telling himself not to stare.   
  
“It is curious,” Cas mused, pulling out the lollipop yet again and turning the bear around to study it, “why bears are so often associated with honey,”   
  
“Well,” Dean stumbled out, “they, uh… they do like eating honey,”   
  
“They also eat the bees, larvae, and hive itself; it would be more fitting if this was a bee, not a bear, since without bees there would be no honey for any of us to enjoy,”   
  
The solemnness in Cas’ voice had Dean fighting against his lips twitching into a helpless grin; something Cas seemed to repeatedly have him doing. He adjusted the hand soap and a dubious-looking jar labelled _bee pollen_ that he was now holding, as well along with their previous purchases, and shrugged. “Guess people don’t like the idea of shoving an insect-shaped thing in their mouth, huh?”   
  
“Yet they have no problem doing the same with a bear?” Cas retorted, slightly condescending.   
  
Dean took in the look on Cas’ face, felt Sam nudging into his side, glanced down just enough to see his hands now full as well, and sighed. Next time Sam suggested coming to a farmer’s market, he’d wait in the car.


	6. Belonging

“It is peaceful,”  
  
Dean dropped the lighter into the open grave and felt the heat blast back against him as the flames burst up, then raised his head to see Cas’ face in the flickering light.   
  
“What, here?” Dean checked, a half-wave of his hand around him, to which Cas nodded, but barely shifted his unseeing stare over the graveyard. Dean pivoted, trying to see what he was looking at, but saw nothing but headstones and overgrown shrubs casting long shadows in the moonlight, and shrugged. “Guess it makes sense. Last resting place and all,”   
  
The comment seemed to get his attention, because Cas turned to look at him then, though his expression still revealed nothing. At least, it shouldn’t have. But Dean could see the doubt there, knew Cas well enough to recognise the nuances that said he was questioning himself yet again, as he had done, long before he’d ever fallen. His awareness of his own mortality didn’t seem to worry him much, but something was clearly bothering him, being in this graveyard.   
  
“Cas?”   
  
“These people,” he said, eyes back to casting over the graveyard, “they have… loved ones. You can see the… the headstones. These graves, they are… they are maintained. Cared for. Even though there is nothing of the person remaining here,”   
  
The tone of Cas’ voice Dean tried to understand. Was it bewilderment at such a gesture? Surprise? Awe, even? “Yeah, well. It’s what people do. It’s- it’s what you do for the people you miss, when they’re gone,”   
  
“They are not here,” Cas reiterated, his brow furrowing a fraction.   
  
“No, I guess they’re not-”   
  
“People do not only miss those who have died,” Cas added, his gaze shifting to catch Dean’s eye, and in doing so catching his breath.   
  
“Well, no-”   
  
“I do not imagine there are many who would- who are, missing me,” Cas mused, and oh, if that didn’t break Dean’s heart a little. Even more so, for recognising Cas still didn’t feel like he belonged, hard as he and Sam had tried to make him know he did.   
  
“Cas-”   
  
“It is of no consequence,” Cas said, shifting and seeming to come back to himself, looking as though he realised he’d said something he shouldn’t.   
  
“I’ve missed you. I can’t tell you how many times,” Dean blasted out then, desperate to take that look from Cas’ face, and his heart thumping in awareness of his own words.   
  
Cas’ expression softened, the very corners of his lips twitching up a touch. “As I have you,”   
  
Taking a careful path towards him around the edge of the grave, Dean only stopped when close enough to reach out and grip lightly around his shoulder, forcing Cas to look him in the eye. “Yeah, well. I-”   
  
“We should finish this,” Cas cut him off with, stepping away to pick up a shovel and loading it up with dirt. Dean watched him for a few seconds then picked up the other to do the same, his eyes darting over repeatedly to watch Cas as he worked, trying and failing to work out what he was thinking the entire time.   
  
They filled the grave in perfect synchronicity, silent besides the repeated scrape of shovel on soil, until Cas’ sigh signalled they were done. Wiping a tired hand over his face and smiling across at Dean, Cas then turned on his heel without saying a word, and made his way back to the Impala.   
  
Dean watched him walk away, waited until Cas was out of earshot, then pulled his phone out of his pocket, hitting a single button to start a call. He listened to it ring twice, wincing at his belated realisation of the time, and sagged a little in relief when the call connected.   
  
A curious-sounding Jody answered, and after a few minutes catching each other up with their news, Dean cleared his throat to ask the question that was the entire purpose of his call. “Hey. How’d you guys feel about coming over for dinner; we’ve not- we’ve not really done a house-warming thing for Cas, and I- I think he needs... he needs to know he’s got a home here. That we... that we want him to stick around, so…”


	7. Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a coda. Or maybe a coda; aren’t you supposed to watch the episode in entirety to make it one of those? I don’t know: here - enjoy, anyway! Or not…

Dean dreams. And when he dreams, it’s of a world where everything is perfect, in his own little bubble where there’s not a thing that’s been left unsaid.

Because he’s said it all, over and over, countless times, and never once been misinterpreted. And what’s more, Cas has heard him. Every last confession, every tentative hope. Returned every last one of them as well.

In these dreams, Dean doesn’t have to pretend to be anything. Hide the pressure he’s under to constantly do the right thing, or the pain surging through him every time something goes wrong. He’s different, whole, more himself than he’ll ever be in his waking world. And even more alien still, Dean _likes_ the version of himself when he’s asleep. Doesn’t have to fight back the bile of all his self-loathing, or force silent the voices screaming reminders of everything about him that’s wrong.

But _this_ dream, Dean thinks to himself with a sense of peace washing through him, this dream is the one he wants to lose himself in, more than any other. Because Cas is here, he’s _here_ , and he’s _with_ him, in every way it’s possible to be with a person.  

He’s living. Breathing. Arching beneath him at his touch, _joined_ with him in ways that are intimate and sensual, yet also so wholesome, like Dean is the place that he really belongs. And he’s smiling, happier than Dean thinks he’s ever seen him smiling, confidently reaching for him to pull him closer still, repeating back every one of Dean’s effortlessly affectionate words.  

There is love here, in this dream, so much of it that it’s like a blanket for Dean, as well as an anchor, a comfort, a reason to keep breathing. But also a shroud. A reason for him not to wake.  

Dean _loves_ Cas here. In ways he’s never allowed himself to feel before, stronger than anything he’s ever known. It’s terrifying, all encompassing, yet also _his_ way of coming home, and belonging. And Dean loses himself in dream Cas more every time his head sinks into his pillow.

Of course, Dean loves Cas in the waking world too, and in the few moments he allows honesty with himself, Dean acknowledges that he’s been in love with Cas for the longest time. It’s not just physical, or even just emotional; it’s every part of him. Right down to the very depths of his essence, laced through every decision, the taste of his name on his tongue whenever he talks, and every other occasion besides.

But Cas is only with him in one of these worlds. When he wakes it’s to the horrifying reality that Cas is gone. And no amount of liquor, or concerned words from Sam, or Jody, or anyone else who might think to call him can do nothing to soothe him on that point. How could it, when there is not a power in _that_ world, to bring Cas back?

He waited too long to tell him anything, to tell him everything, Dean curses himself as fresh tears rip through him on waking. And because of that, Cas died alone; right there in front of him, within grasping reach, yet still entire worlds away. Not knowing just how very much he is loved. Will always be loved, even if he’s no longer here to receive it.  

And Dean can’t take it, can’t handle the weight of missing his final, last chance to do _something_ , to let Cas know even a little of what he means to him. To make him realise he never needed a win to give Dean _anything_ , because he gave him everything just by existing. And that with him, with _them_ , is where he has always belonged.

It’s too late, Dean repeats to himself, curling tighter into that pillow, willing himself to fall back to sleep, to that world where Cas is with him, and he’s not already run out of time.  

And when he succumbs, Cas is waiting for him, smiling, reaching out to gather him close. Reminding Dean he will never leave him, intends to spend an eternity right there by his side.

Dean dreams. And when he dreams, it’s of a world where everything is perfect, in his own little bubble where there’s not a thing that’s been left unsaid. It’s getting harder to wake from this world, where Cas loves him so openly, honestly, and freely, and Dean’s not scared to return it. Getting harder to find reasons to find his way back.

  



	8. A Hopeful Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for Wayward_Mom as a belated get well soon... here, have some fluff ;) xx

In a dive bar near Tulsa, on the way back to the bunker after a successful hunt for shapeshifters, Dean allows himself to admit that he is in love.

The table top is sticky, there’s a light flickering in the corner of the bar that’s buzzing just the wrong side of irritating, and the jukebox keeps repeating the same three songs.

But he is there, and Cas is there, and there is no reason to be in any hurry to be anywhere else. Sam’s sleeping off a headache in a motel in walking distance, there are no news stories currently getting their attention, and more importantly than any of that, is the warmth and openness of Cas’ smile.  

How did it take them so long to get here, Dean asks himself, swirling his thumb over the back of Cas’ hand, just because he wants to. Just because he _can_. Not that it matters; Cas is folded into the crook of his arm, and that thumb Dean’s swirling is over the back of a hand that’s resting on his own thigh. The bottles of beer they’ve both been nursing for what has to be a little over an hour are probably already getting flat. Dean doesn’t care. Not with the way Cas keeps smiling at him, as though there is no other place he would rather be in the world.  

“You look happy,” he says, aware that his voice is coming out gentler than he ever uses with other people.

“I _am_ happy,” Cas tells him, his eyes dancing with that happiness, and what is Dean supposed to do with that but kiss him; dropping his grip around that beer bottle on the table to cup his face, heart jolting as Cas leans in the same time he does, with an easiness that speaks of just how very right this thing is between them.

“So ‘m I,” he answers, whispering it against Cas’ lips, then chasing the taste of him, feeling like he might never get enough.

Cas’ fingertips press into the nape of his neck, sliding a path upwards through his hair, then press flat against his scalp, holding him exactly where he wants. And that Cas would so easily take what is rightfully his sends a constant thrill swooping through Dean’s stomach. Spiraling out a warmth he’d never dared hope for, back when all he did was fantasize about having things like this with Cas.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” Dean asks, and it makes his heart soar that Cas immediately gets it. Because he’s not questioning _them_ , or what they mean to each other, or even the tentative future they’ve sort of half-planned. But rather the overwhelming, unimaginable choice that Cas has made; not for _him_ , Dean amends to himself feeling nothing but pride, but because this is a life that Cas _wants_. With him, but more importantly than anything else, for _himself_.

“More sure than I have been about… anything,” Cas huffs to himself, shaking his head, then adding, “for a while,”

“But this is a forever kinda deal,” Dean insists, and it’s pointless really. They’ve had numerous conversations that have led to this point, and Cas has long made up his mind.

“It is,” Cas agrees, and his entire face lights up in excitement. Dean gets it—and he doesn’t—why humanity is a choice that makes Cas’ smile about a mile wide. And if he voices out loud that immortality is a hell of a thing to give up, well. Cas will only reiterate again how he is tired of all that indefinite stretched out in front of him, the constant question hanging over him of where his loyalties lie.

The other angels, they won’t get it. Won’t understand why Cas wants to walk the Earth as one of them—an ordinary human being. But Dean thinks he _does_ understand, completely. For all his power, and invincibility, being the kind of angel Cas has been these past few years has left Cas vulnerable. Constantly second-guessing himself, and having two very separate paths to follow. Torn between duty, and what pulls on his heart.

Cas cares for people, for humanity, for the simple things he could never appreciate before he had a vessel. From the feel of skin on skin—which they’ve been getting a lot of, lately, Dean thinks to himself and shifting for it—to the simple enjoyment of tasting good food. The uncertainty of tomorrow, the full spectrum of emotions that means Cas is living, and breathing, and thriving for existing, instead of stuck inside his own mind, because he doesn’t know where he belongs.

He belongs with _me_ , Dean says to himself, because he’s often felt it. Felt that the two of them, though functioning just fine when they’re not together do so much better when they’re not apart. Dean can concentrate, knowing that Cas is just in touching distance, instead of who knows where, doing who knows what, and not answering his call.

But he’s overthinking things, he knows he is, because Cas’ smile for him tells Dean he knows he’s overthinking, and instead of having to hold back on the urge to kiss him, surges forward to do just that. And if he gets a little lost in it, rolls forward so that his chest is pressing against Cas’ chest and pushing him back into the corner of the booth they’re crammed in, it’s not a bad thing. Besides, he thinks, with a quick glance around them, it’s a little too dark, with too few people to even notice, never mind complain.

And in a month from now, when Cas has made all the arrangements to get _de-angeled_ , as Dean keeps calling it, they’re taking off together. Taking a little time, just for themselves, giving Cas chance to try out and adjust to all that being human’s going to mean for him. Sam, Jody, Donna, and everyone else in their small circle of friends, family, and trusted hunters are picking up the slack for that little while. Dean barely had to ask.  

“We’ll need to get you a better ID,” Dean says, crowding ever closer to him so that Cas is all out of space. He doesn’t seem to mind though; tilting the fraction he can forward so that he can claim himself a kiss all over again.

“I’ll… need a last name,” he replies, eyes twinkling as he sweeps his fingers up over Dean’s cheek.

“Yeah,” Dean agrees, his voice coming out gruff as he adds, “how does _Winchester_ sound?”

“Like you owe me a better proposal,” Cas counters without hesitating, but smiling so hard it’s like it’s putting stars in his eyes.  

Dean’s heart soars. Since they gave into this, stopped hiding behind all the possible difficulties and just accepted what they mean to one another, Cas’ confidence has grown. That dry humor and quick wit that he never used to put on display for other people is now shining through, but with Dean, there’s an entire new layer of personality that’s all softness and assertiveness in ways that often leave Dean blushing. But not wanting to change a moment of it for the world.

“You want the whole down on one knee, bleeding heart confession kinda thing, Cas?” Dean teases, though is willing to give Cas just about everything he asks.

“You get down on your knees for me for… other reasons, Dean,” Cas points out, a triumphant glint in his eye for the way his words leave Dean speechless, mouth suspended somewhere between a whine of embarrassed protest and a smile.

“Good point,” Dean replies, then kisses him harder and presses up against him with renewed intent for what he’s thinking they should do when they get back to the motel—in their own room, at least three doors away from Sam. At Sam’s request.

“I love you,” Cas says then, in that open, honest way he does that says the words are simple for him. No longer cause him difficulty for fearing how Dean will or won’t respond.

“Love you back,” Dean tells him; immediately, and whispered close, though not in a way that suggests he cares if there’s any danger of anyone else listening. It’s just that he has to get the words out before they get barbed on his tongue by second-guessing, and that ever present self-doubt.

Cas beams at him. Dances his fingers up Dean’s side as he pulls him to him, opens up their kiss a little in a way that says he has similar ideas to Dean on his mind.  

But not yet, Dean thinks, closing his eyes at the taste of him, the warm press of Cas’ body next to his in this corner booth, with no real hurry to go anywhere tomorrow. Maybe they’ll even stay another night.

“Wanna dance with me, Cas?” Dean asks, at the beginning of the one song he doesn’t mind listening to on repeat all evening. Cas’ smile is triumphant as he nods, accepting Dean’s hand as he pulls him up from the table, then leads him out onto the poor excuse of a dance floor, and pulls him straight into his arms.

 


End file.
